


Good Morning

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [136]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Bad Ending, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Orange, Sex, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-11-02 04:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20620169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: He wakes up in a bed, a real one. It’s not a common occurrence, but it’s happened before. Often enough that he knows what to do.





	Good Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chase_acow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/gifts).

> Consent and state-of-mind related content warning in the end notes.

He wakes up in a bed, a real one. There’s a fluffy pillow under his head and a duvet over his body.

It’s not a common occurrence, but it’s happened before. Often enough that he knows what to do. First, he checks to see if he’s alone. 

The room is… nice. Blue walls, dark wood furniture. Lots of things cluttered around, books and clothes and picture frames. Two windows, nearly blocked off by plants. He loses a minute drinking in the sight of them there, well-tended and peaceful.

The room’s owner is absent. He has no instructions, so he gets up.

He’s wearing sweatpants, navy. No shirt, which isn’t surprising. His feet sink into a thick rug as he leaves the bedroom.

The rest of the apartment—for it is an apartment—is furnished similarly. Lots of photographs. Lots of mess, lived-in mess.

There are cooking sounds coming around the corner. He approaches, and… hesitates.

But he goes forward, because that’s what he does.

There’s a man in a well-appointed kitchen. He’s frying something, mixing something else. He turns around.

“Bout time you got up, lazybones. Sit down, breakfast’s almost ready.”

‘Lazybones’ sits down at the table. It has three chairs, though one is occupied by what looks like a stack of magazines and newspapers. In front of him, there’s a pile of mail. The top envelope is addressed to a Sam Wilson.

The pile is shoved to the side and a plate is placed in front of him. “Coulda set the table,” the man—Sam?—grumbles, before going to fetch cutlery himself. He carries a handful of silverware and a second plate over and sets up the table for two, then goes back again and pours two glasses of orange juice. 

“You okay Bucky? Kinda quiet.”

‘Bucky?’ tips his head back when Sam runs his hand through his hair, catching it around Bucky’s neck. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s forehead and holds it there for a moment.

“You don’t feel sick.” He bends more and kisses Bucky on the mouth.

Bucky closes his eyes as the kiss lingers. He tilts his head more, deepening it. Another hand comes up to caress his face. He nips at Sam’s lips, and things happen quickly.

Sam steps to the side, tugging Bucky up, and they end up pressed against one of the counters. Sam’s cotton t-shirt rubs against Bucky’s bare skin as they kiss deeply, wandering hands stroking and digging into hard muscle.

“Good morning, huh?” Sam laughs against his mouth. “Maybe we should’ve stayed in bed.”

He kisses Bucky’s cheek and then slides to his knees.

Bucky looks at the kitchen table as Sam pulls down his sweatpants. Their breakfast, bacon and pancakes, is probably getting cold. There’s a small vase on the table filled with yellow and cream-colored flowers. It’s next to a stack of thick paperbacks. Bucky reads the titles and authors as Sam takes his cock into his mouth.

Sam is very good at this. It doesn’t take Bucky long to come into his mouth. While he’s slumped against the counter, Sam goes and spits in the kitchen sink, then drinks some of the orange juice he’d set on the table.

He sits down, so Bucky fixes his pants and sits down opposite him.

The bacon is good.

“Wow, you really are quiet today,” Sam observes.

Bucky sees the pile of mail again.

“Sam?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Is that your name?”

Sam—probably—goes very still, his forkful of pancake dripping syrup onto his plate.

He puts it down carefully. “You don’t remember?”

Bucky shakes his head. 

Sam swallows. “Okay. This… this happened before," he says. "It’s okay. I’ll—Shit!”

He knocks over his orange juice and it shatters on the floor. Shards of glass and splatters of pale orange liquid cover the kitchen in an instant. 

“Fuck,” Sam mutters. He makes to get up, but stays seated. His arm twitches, the way it had when he knocked over the cup. His breathing is fast, shaky.

Bucky doesn’t know if he’s supposed to do something now. He doesn’t have instructions for this.

“Do you want me to—”

“No, you—”

They sit. Sam works on slowing down his breathing. He’s covered his eyes with one hand.

The orange juice seeps across the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky wakes up experiencing dissociation and amnesia. He has vague memories of being taken advantage of sexually (from his time as the Soldier, though he doesn't recall this specifically). Due to his instinct to follow the pattern of these memories, when Sam, who is his boyfriend, kisses him casually, they end up having sex that Bucky doesn't explicitly want. Upon discovering Bucky's state of mind, Sam is extremely disoriented.


End file.
